Chapter 30: A Complicated MatterThe air on the training field was frozen, thick with a silence that was far heavier than any gravitational field. Every eye was locked on the scene at the center: the defeated prince of the Star Luo Empire, pinned to the ground by crimson vines, his face being unceremoniously ground into the dirt by the sole of a boot.
And standing over him, enduring the full, crushing pressure of a Spirit Saint's aura without buckling, was Zhang Tian, his blue eyes blazing with a cold, defiant fire.
"Zhang Tian!" Flender's voice was a furious roar, laced with disbelief. "Did you not hear us?! I told you to stop!"
Yu Xiaogang stepped forward, his own face a thundercloud of righteous indignation, his usual stiff composure cracking under the strain of such blatant insubordination. "Your actions are beyond disrespectful!" he snapped, his voice sharp and lecturing. "Dai Mubai is your senior, a fellow student of this academy! To humiliate him in such a manner, even after your teachers have commanded you to halt… this is an egregious breach of discipline! It shows a profound lack of character!"
Zhang Tian slowly removed his foot from Dai Mubai's face. The pressure from Flender's aura lessened slightly, but the tension in the air remained razor-sharp. He didn't look flustered. He didn't look apologetic. He simply turned his calm, analytical gaze upon the two furious teachers.
"A question, Dean Flender, Grandmaster," he began, his voice perfectly even, betraying no hint of the physical strain he was under. "When you both arrived here and saw that a fight was about to begin, why did you not stop it at that time?"
The question was so simple, so direct, that it caught both men completely off guard. They stared at him, momentarily speechless.
"What?" Zhang Tian pressed, his voice acquiring a subtle, dangerous edge. "Did you truly believe that a spar between myself, a Level 27 Spirit Grandmaster, and Dai Mubai, a Level 37 Spirit Elder, was a fair fight? Or perhaps," he added, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips, "it was only acceptable for me to be defeated, but it is unacceptable for him to lose? Is that how it is?"
The words were a mirror, reflecting their own unspoken biases back at them. Flender had the grace to look deeply uncomfortable. Yu Xiaogang's jaw tightened, but he remained silent. They had indeed expected, even hoped for, Zhang Tian's defeat.
But Zhang Tian wasn't finished. His gaze hardened. "Every single attack from this 'senior' of mine was aimed at me with malicious intent. He sought to cripple me, to inflict grievous injury. If I had been even slightly weaker, slightly less prepared, I would be the one lying on the ground right now, my bones broken, my future as a Spirit Master in jeopardy."
He let out a soft, contemptuous snort. "And you are angry because I stepped on his face? After all that, am I not even permitted to vent a small amount of my anger?"
Flender, seeing the irrefutable logic in the boy's argument, wisely chose not to speak. Yu Xiaogang, however, could not let his authority be so thoroughly dismantled. His pride demanded a response.
"That does not change the facts," the Grandmaster declared, his voice regaining its eloquent, lecturing tone. "Dai Mubai is still the senior-most student of Shrek Academy. There must be a basic level of respect between juniors and seniors. Your actions were an affront to that hierarchy, a detriment to the very structure of this team. It was not appropriate."
Zhang Tian just smiled, a cool, dismissive expression. "With all due respect, Grandmaster, I believe it is not seniority that should command respect, but strength. Today, despite being three years younger than him and ten levels weaker in cultivation, I have defeated him. Thoroughly."
He glanced down at the groaning, humiliated prince on the ground. "As of now, he no longer deserves to be my senior. He is, at best, a troublemaker who has been properly subdued."
"That's right!" Ning Rongrong's voice rang out, sharp and clear. She ran forward to stand beside Zhang Tian, her hands on her hips as she glared furiously at Yu Xiaogang. "You're just playing favorites! Dai Mubai was the one who wanted this spar first and he even tried to harm Zhang Tian so maliciously, and you didn't say a word or try to stop the spar! But when Zhang Tian defeats him, you want to blame him and even question his character? What kind of ridiculous teacher are you?!"
Tang San could no longer remain silent. His loyalty to his teacher was absolute. He stepped forward, his expression cold as he stared at Ning Rongrong, and then at Zhang Tian. "How dare you speak to my teacher like that!" he said, his voice tight with anger. "He is only worried that this kind of internal conflict will greatly affect the team's coordination when we fight together! He is thinking of the greater good!"
Zhang Tian's eyes narrowed as he saw the icy glare Tang San directed at Ning Rongrong. A dangerous, cold current flowed through him. He turned his focus inward, to his spiritual sea.
'Ah Yin,' he projected, his mental voice devoid of all warmth. 'Your son is beginning to make me very, very angry. If he dares to harm Rongrong, even in the slightest… I will not hold back. I will take action against him, even if it means incurring your wrath, turning you against me, and facing the full fury of Tang Hao.'
He let the threat settle. 'Even if you wish to protect him, even if his father intervenes, I am not helpless. I can cripple him permanently before anyone can even react.'
The spiritual sea trembled. Ah Yin knew he was not bluffing. She knew about the spores. The silent, undetectable seeds of Blood Silver Grass he had planted within Tang San's body during their time as roommates. With a single thought, Zhang Tian could activate them. They would sprout within Tang San's meridians, shredding them from the inside, destroying his organs, turning his body into a garden of death. Even if Tang Hao saved his life, he would be a cripple forever.
She saw the look in her son's eyes, the righteous fury aimed at Zhang Tian and his friend. Her heart tore in two. She did not want this. She did not want them to fight.
'Please, Zhang Tian,' she begged, her voice a whisper of pure, maternal anguish. 'Don't… don't kill him. Don't injure him so badly. Please. Just… teach him a lesson. A painful one. In return… I will do anything you ask of me. Anything.'
'Anything, you say?' Zhang Tian's mental voice was cold. 'I will hold you to that, Empress.'
He turned his attention back to the external world, shrugging dismissively at Tang San's outburst. "A brute like Dai Mubai, whose attacks are so straightforward and thoughtless, wouldn't be much help in a team matchup anyway. The only thing he can do is charge forward without thinking. That is not an asset; it is a liability."
He then looked at Flender and Yu Xiaogang, a final, weary expression on his face. "I will take my leave now. This unnecessary fight has taken up precious time I could have spent walking with my friends."
He turned, but before he left, he shot one last, cold glare down at Dai Mubai. "Think carefully before you involve yourself with Zhuqing again," he warned, his voice a low promise of violence. "Until you can defeat me… stay away. Next time, I assure you, I will not stop at just stepping on your face."
His gaze then flickered to Ning Rongrong, and he gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod towards Zhu Zhuqing. Ning Rongrong, understanding his meaning instantly, went over to Zhu Zhuqing, took her hand, and gently led her away from the tense, fractured group.
With his parting shots delivered, Zhang Tian turned and walked away, his posture relaxed, leaving chaos and shattered egos in his wake.
The remaining students were quickly dispersed by a grim-faced Flender and Zhao Wuji.
"Xiao San, Xiao Wu, Mubai, Oscar, Hongjun," Flender said, his voice heavy. "Go back to your dorms. Rest."
Oscar quickly produced a Big Recovery Sausage, handing it to the still-dazed Dai Mubai, who accepted it with a numb, vacant expression. His pride, his arrogance, his entire world had been shattered.
Once the students were gone, Flender approached his old friend, a deep, worried sigh escaping his lips. "Xiaogang," he said, "what are we going to do now?"
Yu Xiaogang stood silently for a long time, his mind processing the disastrous outcome of the spar. Finally, he spoke, his voice a clinical dissection of their problems.
"The negative consequences are significant," he stated. "First, Dai Mubai's pride and confidence, the very foundation of a power-attack type's fighting spirit, has been completely shattered. Second, any slight progress we had made in mending the relationship between him and Zhu Zhuqing is now lost. There is little to no chance of them cooperating enough to use their Martial Spirit Fusion skill."
He shook his head. "Furthermore, Dai Mubai will now be subjected to constant, daily humiliation. His fiancée will grow closer to the man who defeated him, and because of Zhang Tian's threat, he won't even dare to approach her confidently. This will only fester and create more conflict."
"Should we… replace him?" Flender asked hesitantly. "Replace Dai Mubai with Zhang Tian? Team coordination might improve. Rongrong and Zhuqing would certainly follow him, and the others don't have a major issue with him, not like with Mubai."
Yu Xiaogang immediately shook his head. "No. That is not an optimal solution. While bringing Zhang Tian into the fold might solve some interpersonal issues, it creates a tactical one. He is a control-type Spirit Master. The team already has a control-type in my disciple, Little San. A team with two control types would be unbalanced. It would lack the raw, overwhelming power that only a top-tier Power Attack type can provide in certain situations."
He continued his analysis. "Without the Martial Spirit Fusion, Zhuqing's offensive power is insufficient for a primary assault role. Her Hell Civet is a step weaker than Dai Mubai's Evil Eye White Tiger, and her spirit rank is significantly lower. While Ning Rongrong's support can compensate for this to some degree, it is not an ideal arrangement. The problem is truly… complicated."
Flender let out another depressed sigh. Zhao Wuji just listened quietly, a newfound respect for Zhang Tian's unconventional power warring with his loyalty to his old comrades.
After a long, thoughtful silence, Yu Xiaogang's eyes narrowed, a cold, calculating light entering them. "There is only one path forward," he declared. "We must help Dai Mubai regain his confidence. And the only way to do that is to make him defeat Zhang Tian."
He looked at Flender. "We must push him. Within the next year, we will focus all our resources on getting Dai Mubai to Level 40. Once he becomes a Spirit Ancestor and acquires his fourth spirit ring, the gap in their cultivation bases will be immense. A Spirit Elder versus a Spirit Ancestor is a different world. He should be able to rely on his sheer spirit rank to suppress and defeat Zhang Tian at that time."
Meanwhile, far from the plotting of the teachers, Zhang Tian was walking with Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing through one of the academy's outer training grounds. The moon was high, casting a serene, silver light over the quiet field.
Zhang Tian stopped and turned to Zhu Zhuqing, his expression serious. "With what has happened today, Zhuqing," he asked, his voice gentle but direct, "do you still hold any unrealistic hopes for Dai Mubai? Do you truly believe that man can help you survive the battle against your sister and his brother?"
Zhu Zhuqing looked at him, her beautiful eyes filled with a new, sober clarity. She thought of Dai Mubai's pathetic rage, his foolish wager, his utter defeat. She shook her head slowly. "No," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I see no hope in him now. None at all."
"Then you should leave the Grandmaster's training and join ours," Zhang Tian said confidently. "He will only continue to push you and Dai Mubai together, trying to force the Martial Spirit Fusion for the sake of his 'perfect team.' He does not care about your feelings, only your utility. Under my guidance, I promise you, your strength will grow faster than you can imagine."
Ning Rongrong immediately chimed in, grabbing Zhuqing's hand. "He's right, Zhuqing! Join us! His training methods are amazing! You won't regret it!"
Zhu Zhuqing hesitated, a final flicker of doubt in her mind. "But… the Grandmaster is still a renowned theorist. He trained Tang San, and his strength is no joke…"
To settle her doubts, Zhang Tian proposed a final demonstration. "Zhuqing," he said, "you are an agility-type Spirit Grandmaster. Possess your Hell Civet spirit, but do not use any of your spirit ring abilities. Your only goal is to strike Rongrong three times. If you can land a single clean hit within your first three attacks, I will not mention this matter again."
He looked at her seriously. "Remember, I have only been training Rongrong for a little over a week. This will show you the results of my methods."
The challenge was intriguing. Zhu Zhuqing nodded, a curious light in her eyes.
Ning Rongrong, on the other hand, looked nervous. "Against a power-type, maybe… but against Zhuqing? She's so fast!"
"Trust your training, Rongrong," Zhang Tian said calmly. "Trust your eyes. You'll be fine."
She took a deep breath and nodded, her trust in him overriding her fear.
They took their positions in the center of the field. The spar began.
Zhu Zhuqing moved. She was a black phantom, a blur of motion as she activated her spirit possession, her sharp claws glinting in the moonlight. She lunged, her speed incredible.
But Ning Rongrong's eyes, trained for days to see everything, didn't see a blur. They saw the subtle shift of Zhuqing's weight, the tensing of her calf muscle just before she launched. She saw the trajectory.
With a small gasp, Ning Rongrong took a single, sharp step to the side. Zhuqing's claws sliced through the air where her head had been a moment before.
First attack, dodged.
Zhuqing was shocked, but she didn't stop. She twisted mid-air, launching a second, sweeping claw attack at Rongrong's legs.
Again, Rongrong saw it coming. She hopped backwards, a simple, almost clumsy-looking movement, but it was just enough. The claws missed by a hair's breadth.
Second attack, dodged.
Zhuqing was now truly stunned. She landed, her mind reeling. She launched a third, desperate lunge, feinting high before striking low.
Ning Rongrong, her heart pounding, followed the feint with her eyes but her body reacted to the true threat, dropping into a low crouch.
Third attack, dodged.
Zhuqing continued, her pride as an agility master on the line. She attacked a fourth time, and then a fifth. It was on the fifth attack, a complex combination of speed and misdirection, that she finally managed to get through. Her clawed fingers gently tapped Ning Rongrong's forehead. The spar was over.
But the result was already clear. Zhuqing stared at her hand, then at the panting but unharmed Ning Rongrong, her mind completely blown. To dodge her first three attacks… it was unbelievable. After just a week of training.
She turned her wide, disbelieving eyes to Zhang Tian. She finally understood. His methods weren't just creative; they were revolutionary.
She walked over to him, her decision made. She looked him in the eye and gave a deep, respectful nod.
"From tomorrow," she whispered, her voice filled with a newfound hope. "I will join your training."
Zhang Tian smiled, a calm, satisfied expression on his face. The pieces were all falling into place.
Chapter 31: Truth about Tang SanThe morning sun cast a weak, watery light over the Shrek Academy training grounds. A chilly breeze swept across the field, carrying with it the scent of fresh sawdust from the ongoing construction and the faint, underlying tension of a group divided.
At the center of the field stood the self-proclaimed Grandmaster, Yu Xiaogang, his arms crossed, his expression a familiar mask of stiff impatience. Before him stood the five students who had remained under his tutelage: Tang San, Xiao Wu, Dai Mubai, Oscar, and Ma Hongjun. They were all present, their bodies aching from the previous day's brutal physical conditioning, their minds weary from the monotonous routine. They were waiting.
The Grandmaster's cold, analytical gaze kept flickering towards the pathway leading from the dormitories, a flicker of annoyance marring his otherwise impassive face.
"Where is Zhuqing?" he asked, his voice a flat, clipped monotone directed at no one in particular. "Punctuality is the most basic form of discipline. If she is late, she will face additional training."
Dai Mubai shifted his weight, a scowl on his handsome, sullen face. He knew why she was late. She was likely with him. The thought was a bitter pill he would be most likely forced to swallow every single day.
Just as Yu Xiaogang was about to make another pronouncement on the importance of discipline, three figures emerged from the direction of the new, luxurious living quarters. It was Zhang Tian and Ning Rongrong, walking in a comfortable, easy companionship, and beside them, her steps sure and her expression resolute, was Zhu Zhuqing.
The arrival of the trio immediately drew all eyes. The Shrek Five stared, a mixture of envy, curiosity, and resentment on their faces. They saw the easy camaraderie between the three, a bond forged not through forced punishments but through mutual respect and shared goals. It was a world away from their own tense dynamic.
Zhu Zhuqing walked straight up to the waiting group. She bypassed her resentful fiancé without a second glance and stopped directly before Yu Xiaogang. She performed a deep, formal bow, her movements precise and respectful.
"Grandmaster," she began, her voice as cool and clear as a winter morning. "I would like to thank you for your guidance and training over this past week."
Yu Xiaogang gave a stiff nod, assuming this was merely a prelude to an apology for her tardiness. "Punctuality is a virtue you would do well to cultivate, Zhuqing," he said, his tone that of a teacher preparing to deliver a lecture.
"I understand," she replied, straightening up. Her next words, however, were not an apology. They were a declaration. "I am here to inform you that, starting from today, I wish to formally withdraw from your special training."
The statement landed with the force of a physical blow. A stunned silence descended upon the field.
Tang San and Xiao Wu stared at her, their mouths slightly agape. Oscar's jaw dropped. Ma Hongjun stopped picking his nose, his beady eyes wide with shock.
Yu Xiaogang's face, which had been a mask of impassive authority, twitched. A deep, ugly frown marred his features. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.
Zhu Zhuqing met his gaze without flinching. "I wish to train with my friends, Rongrong and Zhang Tian," she stated simply, her use of their familiar names a clear indication of her allegiance. "Their methods are more suitable for my development."
She paused, then delivered the final, killing blow. "Furthermore," she added, her voice dropping to a glacial coldness as her eyes flickered with contempt towards the stunned prince, "I have no desire to participate in any training that requires me to cooperate with Dai Mubai. It is… distasteful to me."
The word 'distasteful' was a dagger twisted in Dai Mubai's already wounded pride. A wave of profound, public humiliation washed over him. His fiancée was rejecting him, abandoning the team, and siding with the very man who had crushed him, all in front of everyone. He wanted to roar, to shout, to challenge her, but then he felt it. A calm, heavy gaze from across the field.
Zhang Tian was watching him. His blue eyes were placid, but they carried an unspoken promise. A promise of more pain, more humiliation, if he dared to open his mouth. Dai Mubai's rage was instantly extinguished by a chilling wave of fear. He clamped his jaw shut, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, a silent, impotent statue of fury.
Yu Xiaogang's face had turned an ugly shade of puce. This was not just insubordination; it was a complete and utter rejection of his wisdom, his authority, his entire philosophy. First, it was Zhang Tian, a boy he had dismissed as a reckless anomaly. Then it was Ning Rongrong, a spoiled princess whose defiance he could write off as childish petulance. But now, it was Zhu Zhuqing. A quiet, hardworking yet talented student.
Her departure was a vote of no confidence. It was a declaration to everyone present that his methods were not just being questioned; they were being abandoned.
"You have made your decision," Yu Xiaogang finally said, his voice tight with suppressed rage. He stared at the three of them—the boy with the impossible grass, the heiress with the boundless resources, and the cold beauty with the warrior's spirit. A rogue faction. His perfect, controllable team was fractured.
"Fine," he spat, his professional mask completely gone, replaced by raw, wounded pride. "Go. Follow your friend and his 'suitable' methods. But you had better not regret this decision, Zhu Zhuqing. When you find yourself left behind, your progress stagnating while your former teammates soar to new heights under my guidance, do not come crawling back."
His threat hung empty in the air. Zhang Tian just offered a faint, dismissive smile. Ning Rongrong rolled her eyes. And Zhu Zhuqing simply turned her back on him.
Without another word, the trio walked away, leaving behind a furious Grandmaster and a group of stunned, confused students. The schism was now complete. Shrek Academy was now home to two separate, rival teams.
In their secluded clearing, a new era of training began.
"Your situation is different from Rongrong's," Zhang Tian explained as he stood before Zhu Zhuqing. The sun filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of light and shadow. "Rongrong is a support master. Her primary need is evasion and survival. You are an agility-type power attacker. You are the predator. Your role is to close the distance and deliver a decisive blow. For that, you need more than just speed."
He looked at her seriously. "Speed without strength is just motion. You will be a blur that annoys your opponent, not one that ends them. We need to build your explosive power, the strength behind your claws."
He gestured to a series of strange, metallic contraptions that had been set up in the clearing. They were intricate devices, a collection of spinning arms, pop-up targets, and weighted levers, all forged from dark, heavy steel. These were the mechanical training drills he had designed, brought to life by the master craftsmen of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect. He couldn't afford to expend his spirit power constantly creating and maintaining two separate, complex courses with his Blood Silver Grass. Ning Rongrong's shifting vine maze was already pushing his limits of fine control. For Zhu Zhuqing, a more permanent, more physically demanding solution was required.
"This is your new playground," he announced. "It is designed to train three things simultaneously: your agility, your reaction speed, and your striking power."
Her first drill began. A series of padded targets, moving on unpredictable tracks, would pop up. Her job was to strike them with her claws. But at the same time, weighted, swinging arms would lash out, forcing her to duck and weave. To hit a target, she had to first evade an attack. And the targets were not simple pads. They were reinforced, requiring a significant amount of force to register a 'hit'.
"Don't just tap it!" he called out as she dodged a swinging metal arm and landed a light, glancing blow on a moving target. "Destroy it! Channel your spirit power into your claws! Focus the force on a single point! Again!"
Her training was a brutal ballet of violence and grace. She flowed through the mechanical maze, her black clothes a blur, the sharp thwack of her claws striking the targets echoing through the clearing. It was a high-intensity, anaerobic workout that pushed her muscles to their absolute limit.
While she trained her body, he also trained her mind. He designed a different course for her dynamic vision. She would have to run at her top speed through a straight, narrow corridor of flashing lights. Different colored lights would flash in complex patterns, and she would have to call them out as she ran. It trained her brain to process information at incredible speeds, to see details in a blur of motion. It was the predator's equivalent of Ning Rongrong's observation training.
The days settled into a new, intense rhythm. Physical conditioning was scheduled three times a week for Zhang Tian and Zhu Zhuqing, their bodies more accustomed to a rigorous regimen. For Ning Rongrong, it remained twice a week, giving her more time to recover.
On the days they didn't focus on physical training, their attention turned to the mastery of their own power.
For Ning Rongrong, the slow, methodical process of punching rocks continued. It was a strange sight, the delicate princess of a great sect, her small fists glowing with a faint light, diligently striking a stone over and over again. After two weeks of this strange practice, Zhang Tian deemed her ready for the next stage.
"Alright, Rongrong," he said one afternoon. "Your control is getting better. You can consistently reinforce your hands without injuring them. Now, we make it reactive."
He turned to Zhu Zhuqing. "Zhuqing, your task is simple. You will attack Rongrong. Use your hand, not your claws. Your attacks should be random, unpredictable. Aim for her arms, her legs, her shoulders. Your goal is to touch her before she can reinforce that spot with her spirit power."
Ning Rongrong paled. "He wants you to hit me?!"
Zhu Zhuqing hesitated, looking at Ning Rongrong's delicate frame. But Zhang Tian's expression was serious. "Don't hold back too much, Zhuqing. This is crucial. Rongrong, this isn't about dodging. It's about reaction. Feel her intent, see her movement, and flood that part of your body with spirit power to create a shield. It has to be instantaneous."
Their first session was a series of yelps and frustrated groans from Ning Rongrong. Zhu Zhuqing's movements were too fast, too sudden. She was constantly being tapped on the shoulder, the arm, the back of her knee, before she could even begin to muster her spirit power.
Zhu Zhuqing, watching this, was once again stunned. 'This… this is what he meant. He's actually teaching a support master how to defend herself with her own spirit power. Not with a spirit ring ability as that is impossible for Support Type Spirit Master, but with pure control. He's teaching her how to fight. If she masters this, she could become an anomaly among the Support-Type Spirit Masters in the entire world. The idea is… revolutionary.'
It was a hard, frustrating process. But slowly, over the next two weeks, Ning Rongrong began to improve. The yelps became fewer. The frantic, failed attempts to form a shield became quicker, more instinctive. She wasn't blocking every hit, not even half of them, but she was starting to succeed. It was a messy, imperfect defense, but it was a defense nonetheless.
For Zhu Zhuqing, the spirit control training was different. Zhang Tian saw the immense potential in her Hell Civet spirit. It wasn't just about speed; it was about the fluid, deadly grace of a feline predator.
"Your family has taught you how to use your spirit abilities properly, but they haven't taught you how to truly use your spirit," he told her as they sat together. "Your body is a weapon. Your speed is a weapon. Your claws are a weapon. You don't always need a spirit ring ability to unleash deadly attacks to your opponents."
He began to work with her, discussing ideas, sketching out movements. He helped her develop a series of self-created spirit skills, combos that flowed together seamlessly, requiring minimal spirit power but maximizing her natural advantages.
There was the 'Phantom Pounce,' a burst of speed into a multi-hit aerial attack.
The 'Silent Shadow Step,' a variation on her evasive movements that allowed her to change direction mid-sprint without losing momentum.
The 'Reaping Claw Dance,' a spinning, whirlwind attack that turned her into a vortex of shredding claws, perfect for dealing with multiple opponents.
He wasn't just teaching her; he was collaborating with her. He would propose an idea, and she, with her innate understanding of her own spirit, would refine it, adapt it, make it her own. It was a partnership that was rapidly forging her into a far more versatile and deadly fighter.
Once a week, their training culminated in a spar. Zhang Tian versus a fully-buffed Zhu Zhuqing. Ning Rongrong would stand at the side, her Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Pagoda shimmering as she poured her support into her friend. With a thirty percent boost to her strength and agility, Zhu Zhuqing was a terror.
Her speed became blinding, her strikes powerful enough to leave deep gashes in Zhang Tian's crimson shields. The first time they sparred, Zhang Tian was genuinely surprised by her ferocity and had to focus completely to defend against her relentless assault.
She was learning. She no longer attacked in straight, predictable lines. She would feint, she would use the environment, she would probe his defenses looking for a weakness before committing to an all-out attack. She was fighting intelligently, a far cry from the straightforward charges of Dai Mubai.
He still won every spar, his control and versatility too great for her to overcome. But the gap was closing. He could feel it. 'With Rongrong's support, she's already a significant threat,' he thought after one particularly intense spar. 'In a few more months, after her next spirit ring… she will be a truly difficult opponent. She's growing at a terrifying rate.'
The month passed in a blur of sweat, effort, and tangible progress. Fueled by the nutrient-rich food and their diligent cultivation in the new simulation fields—Rongrong in the gem field, Zhuqing in the dark field—their spirit ranks soared. Ning Rongrong, who had started at Level 26, broke through to Level 27. Zhu Zhuqing, more impressively, went from Level 27 to Level 28.
Zhang Tian's own progress was hidden but no less profound. His nightly cultivation, amplified by the Blood Silver Domain, was a torrent of power. His spirit rank remained at 27, but the quality of his spirit power was on another level entirely. He was a lake being filled to the brim, the pressure building, ready to burst forth.
Throughout this month of intense training, he was patient. He was waiting.
He knew Tang Hao was watching, a silent, sorrowful guardian in the woods. But a man filled with such grief could not remain stationary forever. Sooner or later, nostalgia, or perhaps suspicion, would call him away.
And one afternoon, it happened.
Through his domain, Zhang Tian felt the oppressive weight of the Titled Douluo's presence lift from the academy grounds. It moved away, heading east, towards the distant mountains.
'He's gone,' Zhang Tian thought, a cold, predatory light entering his eyes. 'Has he finally gone to check the cave? To visit his dear wife? Good. He is about to receive a very nasty surprise. But his absence is my opportunity.'
The time had come.
That night, as the rest of the academy slept, Zhang Tian sat cross-legged on his bed. He closed his eyes and entered the ruby-red expanse of his Spiritual Sea. Ah Yin floated before him, her crimson form radiant and serene.
"Ah Yin," he began, his mental voice calm and direct. "Do you remember the promise you made to me a month ago?You said you would do anything I asked."
Her garnet eyes softened. After a few months of living in his mind, of witnessing his dedication, his intelligence, and his kindness towards his friends, her trust in him was absolute. She knew he was not a man who would make a degenerate request.
"I remember, Zhang Tian," she replied, her voice a gentle melody. "What is it you require?"
He met her gaze, his expression serious. "Your son, Tang San," he said slowly. "His special techniques. The internal cultivation skill for spirit power, the one for mental force, the strange footwork, the hand-hardening skill, the grappling methods. They are remarkable. I wish to learn them."
Ah Yin nodded. She had been deeply impressed by these strange, powerful skills herself. She still had no idea where her son had acquired them, but their efficacy was undeniable. "I understand," she said. "But how can I help you? I do not know these techniques."
"I have already copied the basic pathways of the skills he uses most often," Zhang Tian explained. "But I need the complete scriptures. The full theoretical foundation. And I suspect he has more techniques, more secrets, hidden away in his mind. Secrets I need."
He took a deep breath. "I need you to use your powerful mental force, combined with my own, to help me do something very dangerous. I need your help to peer into his memories." He quickly added, "I have no interest in his personal life, his privacy. I only wish to see the memories that contain these techniques."
His request was logical. It was a means to an end, a way for him to grow stronger, which in turn served their shared goal of uplifting her clan.
And it was something Ah Yin knew she could do. The bond between herself and the royal bloodline her son possessed was a powerful, mystical connection. It was a doorway into the very essence of his soul.
"I will help you," she agreed without hesitation. "But in return, you must promise me one more thing. After you have what you need, you must forgive him once and not harm him even if he does something against you."
"You have my word," Zhang Tian agreed instantly.
With the deal struck, Ah Yin closed her eyes. Her powerful, crimson mental force surged, flowing out of Zhang Tian's spiritual sea. It followed the invisible, ethereal thread of the bloodline connection, a thread that stretched across the academy grounds to a different room where Tang San slept peacefully. Well, it was only recently that Tang San was assigned a seperate room from Zhang Tian since the rift between Zhang Tian and Yu Xiaogang and Tang San had widened considerably.
Her consciousness slipped through that doorway, a ghost in the machine of her son's mind. She entered his spiritual sea, and there, she began to read his memories.
She saw his past. A world of towering pagodas and intricate courtyards. A sect dedicated to hidden weapons and poisons. A man named Tang San, a genius, but a thief, stealing the forbidden knowledge of his own clan. She saw his final moments, pursued to a cliff's edge, his leap of faith into the abyss.
And then, she saw the most horrifying truth of all.
She saw his soul, a shimmering point of light, travel through a void and arrive in a new world. She saw it descend upon a newborn baby, her baby, her little San. And she watched in pure, unadulterated horror as the foreign soul, this otherworldly intruder, mercilessly extinguished the faint, flickering light of her true son's nascent soul, consuming it, possessing his body.
The man in her son's body was not her son. He was a murderer. An imposter.
Her serene, maternal love, the core of her being for the past month, shattered into a million pieces, replaced by a volcanic, white-hot rage that threatened to incinerate her very soul.
She ripped through his memories with a cold, merciless fury. She saw his entire life in the Holy Spirit Village, his life with her husband who had become a drunk, his sanctimonious theft of Zhang Tian's herbs. She saw his obsession with rebuilding his 'Tang Sect', his budding romance with the little girl Xiao Wu, his jealousy of Zhang Tian, his simmering desire to eliminate this rival, Zhang Tian, who stood in the way of his teacher's plans.
When she had seen everything, she tore her consciousness away and returned to Zhang Tian's Spiritual Sea.
He saw her then, and was startled by the transformation. Her crimson form was no longer serene. It was blazing, vibrating with a rage so profound it made his own spiritual sea tremble. Her garnet eyes were no longer soft; they were burning coals of pure, murderous hatred.
"Zhang Tian!" her voice was no longer a melody; it was the shriek of a vengeful goddess. "Kill him! Kill that imposter! That creature is not my son! He murdered my child and stole his body! If you will not do it, I will do it myself! I will burn his soul from the inside out!"
Zhang Tian feigned a look of profound shock. "Ah Yin! What is it? What did you see? Explain!"
She didn't need to be asked twice. A torrent of mental images flooded his mind. She told him everything. The past life, the soul-murder, the hypocrisy, the murderous intent.
And with the images came a treasure trove of information.
The complete scripture of the Mysterious Heaven Skill, from the first level to the Ninth level.
All the techniques in the Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record.
The detailed blueprints and forging methods for every hidden weapon in the Tang Sect's arsenal, from the simplest throwing needle to the top three legendary Tang Sect's secret weapons.
Tang San's memories also contained a comprehensive encyclopedia of herbs and poisons, and the alchemy methods to create pills of miraculous and deadly effect.
It was an inheritance of knowledge so vast, so profound, it was worth more than any empire.
He absorbed it all, his mind cataloging every detail. The gains were beyond anything he could have imagined. He no longer needed the Breaking Clan's knowledge so urgently, though he would still take it. The more knowledge, the better.
He looked at the enraged empress before him. He had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He had not just turned her against the protagonist; he had given her a reason to want him dead.
This was a victory. A complete and utter victory. The game had changed. And he was now holding all the cards.